Have you ever noticed how some decisions feel bigger than they really are?

I have been sitting with that question lately. And what I have realized is that, for me, it is often not just about the decision itself, but something deeper.

I was recently talking to a dear friend and sharing how even small decisions sometimes feel heavier than they should. But as I spoke, I wasn’t fully convinced by my own explanation. As we explored it further, a deeper layer revealed itself.

It wasn’t really about decisions. It was about my relationship with money.

Looking Beyond Fatigue and Busyness

Initially, I thought this hesitation was coming from a fatigued body or a busy routine. It felt like decision paralysis.

But what I began to see more clearly was this; a deep-rooted fear of making the wrong financial choice was preventing me from making any decision at all.

Being an independent woman, I was always taught the importance of financial independence and security. But I don’t remember ever being taught how to understand money beyond its basic importance.

Money was essential, yes. But the fear of losing it was never addressed. Over time, that unspoken layer turned into a quiet, persistent fear; one that began shaping the decisions I delayed or avoided.

When Money Becomes More Than Money

What I am beginning to notice is that money is rarely just about money.

It can carry our sense of safety, our self-worth, our need for control.

And when that happens, even small decisions begin to feel heavy.

We hesitate, delay, second-guess ourselves.

What looks like indecision on the outside is often a deeper discomfort within. I also realized that there was never really a language around fear, security, or emotional attachment to money while growing up. And without that awareness, these patterns quietly settle in.

On a physiological level, this kind of stress does not stay in the mind alone. Money anxiety can show up in the body as headaches, stomach discomfort, fatigue, or even difficulty sleeping; making everyday decisions feel even more overwhelming.

What Yoga Is Helping Me See

I do not think I have yet reached a place of complete calm or trust in my relationship with money. But yoga has changed how I experience this.

It has not taken the fear away, but it has helped me see it more clearly.

As I understand it, many of these beliefs were never consciously chosen. They are shaped by our environment and early experiences.

Through practice, I am learning to pause before reacting. To notice what is happening in my body. To ask myself whether I am moving from clarity or from fear. That awareness, by itself, has been valuable. It has shown me that this work is not about becoming perfect or fearless. It is about learning to stay present with what is here.

Through my practice, I have started to relate to this pattern differently, rather than something to fix, it has more to do with understanding it. That awareness which creates space, and in that space, I have been exploring a few simple shifts:

• I pause before decisions and ask: “Is this fear or clarity?”

• I separate basic needs from imagined worst-case scenarios.

• I notice when I am tying my self-worth to financial outcomes.

• I remind myself that not every decision has to be perfect to be right.

• I bring my attention back to the present moment instead of future “what ifs”.

These are not rules.

They are small ways of staying connected to myself while navigating something as emotionally layered as money.

Contemplation

I am learning that awareness does not always remove our fears immediately. Sometimes it simply helps us meet them with a little more honesty and a little less judgement.

Money happened to be the mirror that revealed this pattern for me. For someone else, it might be relationships, work, health, success, or even the expectations they place on themselves.

What if the challenge in front of us is not the real challenge at all?
What if it is simply pointing us toward something deeper that is asking to be seen?

Perhaps a question we all need to sit with.

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

Lately, I have been noticing something uncomfortable. The structure that once supported me, my routine, my discipline, my way of practicing, does not seem to fit into my life in the same way anymore.

My first instinct was to question myself.

Why am I not as consistent?

Why does it feel harder to return to something I value so deeply?

It is easy to call this a lack of discipline. But I am beginning to see that maybe it is not that simple.

Maybe life has changed, and I have not fully adjusted to that change.

When Awareness Makes Things Harder to Ignore

One thing yoga has done for me is increase awareness. Patterns don’t always go away. I just notice them more clearly now. I notice when intention doesn’t become action. I notice when something important gets quietly pushed aside. And I cannot ignore it as easily as before.

This awareness is helpful, but it is also uncomfortable. Because now I see the gap more clearly.

Is It Really Avoidance, or Something Else?

Earlier, I would have called this avoidance. If something important is not happening, it must mean I am delaying it. But now I am not so sure. Sometimes, it is not that I don’t want to do it.

It is that my life no longer supports doing it in the same way.

There are phases when responsibilities increase, and some things naturally take priority. In that shift, something else moves aside, not because it has lost value, but because it does not fit in the same way anymore.

When My Practice Got Pushed Aside

Over the past couple of months, this is exactly what I experienced. I took on a new project that requires a significant part of my day. Naturally, I adjusted everything else around it. What needed to get done, got done. But somewhere in that adjustment, my own practice slowly slipped out of my routine.

What stayed with me was this: I still wanted to practice.

I still valued it, but I wasn’t doing it. Instead, I found myself completing other tasks, some necessary, some easier, some that gave me a sense of productivity. And in that process, practice remained important in my mind, but absent from my day.

Holding On to an Older Version of Myself

When I sat with this more honestly, I saw something deeper. I wasn’t just trying to return to practice. I was trying to return to an older version of my practice. A certain duration,a certain rhythm, a certain continuity. But my life had already changed, and I was still expecting myself to show up in the same way as before.

What Helped Me Return

What helped me was not pushing myself harder. It was seeing more clearly. I had to acknowledge that my routine had changed. That my capacity was different, and I needed a new way of showing up. Once I allowed that, something shifted. Practice became possible again, not in the same way as before, not as complete or structured, but sincere.

And I am beginning to see that sincerity matters more than perfection.

What I Cannot Outsource

We live in a time where so much can be organized and optimized. There are tools to plan better, manage time, and stay efficient. I find them useful, but there is something I cannot outsource.

I cannot outsource the ability to notice what is really happening within me. I cannot outsource the honesty it takes to see when I am forcing myself into something that no longer fits.

That part still requires me to pause and look inward.

The Questions I Am Learning to Ask

Instead of judging myself, I am trying to ask simpler questions:

What has changed in my life right now?

Am I expecting myself to function as I did before?

Is this really about discipline, or about adjustment?

What is actually possible for me today?

These questions don’t give immediate answers. But they bring clarity.

A More Honest Way of Continuing

I am slowly learning to shift my approach. Instead of asking, “Why am I not doing what I used to do?”

I am asking, “What is possible for me now, if I am being honest?”

That shift feels small, but it changes how I relate to my practice.

Beginning Again, As I Am

I don’t think the answer is becoming perfect in discipline. For me, it is becoming more honest. Letting go of how things should look. Accepting how things are. And from there, beginning again. Not in the same way as before, but in a way that is real for where I am now. And maybe that is enough.

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

This morning, as I sat quietly, I found myself caught in a thought I couldn’t shake:

Is life about destiny, or are we creating it as we go?

What Is Given, What Is Chosen

I looked at the relationships in my life.

The ones I was born into; my family, the circumstances of my birth, the country, the culture.

And then the ones I chose; friends, my partner, the paths I walked toward.

And I wondered: Which of these was destiny, and which was truly my choice?

Trying to Understand Free Will

When I try to understand words like ego and free will, they seem to slip through my fingers. They feel larger than my understanding, and maybe that is the point. Maybe the very fact that they feel beyond my grasp is what keeps pulling me back to the idea of destiny.

But not destiny as something fixed or handed to us. Rather, something that seems to be shaped quietly, through actions, thought by thought, choice by choice.

Where Action Really Begins

And actions, I’ve come to feel, don’t begin where we think they do.

They begin earlier, in thought. If I sit with a thought about someone, even without speaking or acting on it, that thought carries weight. It shapes what follows. It shapes how I respond. In a subtle way, it shapes the world I am building around myself.

The Discomfort of Responsibility

Which is where things begin to feel a little uncomfortable.

If everything moves from thought to action to consequence, then the responsibility feels closer than I often acknowledge. And yet, despite this, judgment seems to arise so quickly, before understanding, before compassion, even before curiosity.

And if we truly believe in karma, that what we put out returns to us. Then, why doesn’t kindness feel like the most obvious, almost effortless choice?

Not as something we should do, but simply as the most natural way to live?

The Question That Stays

I don’t have clear answers to these questions. But they stay with me. The one that stays the most is this: If free will is limited, or even an illusion, why does stress feel so personal?

Why does my mind hold onto worry as if it is something I am doing, rather than something that is simply happening?

Why does anxiety feel like a burden I am carrying, instead of a movement passing through me?

Maybe this is where the real knot lies. We speak of surrender. We lean into the idea that life is unfolding as it must. But when discomfort arises, when the mind becomes restless or heavy, something shifts. Quietly, almost unconsciously, we take ownership again.

We claim the worry. We carry the stress. We become responsible for the very things we just said were not in our control.

Staying with the Inquiry

I don’t have a conclusion to offer. I am, quite honestly, still wandering in this space; finding more questions than answers, sitting with contradictions that don’t seem to resolve neatly.

But perhaps that is part of the path too.

And if you’ve found yourself here as well, somewhere between choice and surrender, between responsibility and letting go, I’d be curious to know what you’ve discovered along the way :).

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

I’ve noticed that the word ego almost always shows up when something feels off in a conversation.

Either we say someone has too much ego, or we’re told the same about ourselves that we don’t listen, that we do what we feel is right.

So somewhere, ego becomes a negative word.

Something to reduce. Something to move away from.

But that understanding has never fully sat well with me.

There was also a phase in my life where my work had become my identity.

It gave me structure, direction, and something to hold on to.

And I didn’t question it then.

But slowly, a question started coming up —

Who am I beyond this?

Because if this role changes, then what remains?

Looking back, it wasn’t just about the work itself. It was about how strongly I was holding onto that identity.

That question stayed. And it made me look at ego differently.

In Sāṅkhya, there is a concept called ahamkāra, the “I-maker”.

The part of the mind that creates a sense of identity.

“I am this.” “This is mine.” “This is happening to me.”

It is not described as a flaw.

It is just part of how the mind works.

Without it, we couldn’t take up roles, function in the world, or have any sense of individuality at all.

So ego, in itself, is not the problem.

But understanding this intellectually was one thing.

Seeing it in my own experience was different.

I began to notice that ahamkāra shows up in two very different ways.

Sometimes it feels light, functional… almost like a tool.

I remember finishing a session once and reading the feedback that came in.

There were many kind words, and then one suggestion.

And I could see how quickly the mind went to that one comment.

A whole story started forming almost instantly.

What does this mean?
Did I not do it well?
Was something missing?

That movement was very clear.

But at the same time, there was also an ability to step back a little.

To see that this is just feedback.

Something I can look at, learn from.

The reaction didn’t completely disappear.

But it didn’t take over in the same way.

I was in my role as a teacher.

But I wasn’t completely identified with it.

That’s when I started seeing .. the ego wasn’t absent, but it wasn’t running the whole experience.

And then there are other moments.

The same “I” becomes tight.

I remember a conversation where something was said very casually.

Nothing significant.

But my mind picked on it immediately.

There was an instant need to explain, to clarify, to make sure I wasn’t being misunderstood.
Almost like something in me had to set the record straight.

And in that moment, it didn’t feel like I was using the ego.

It felt like I had become it.

The role had stopped being something I was doing.

It had become something I was defending.

In that moment, it was clear ..the ego had taken over the experience.

I started noticing this in smaller, quieter moments too.

I used to feel that rituals have no real value.

It felt logical to me then.

I would almost dismiss it internally .. as something unnecessary, even regressive.

But over time, something softened.

I could see that for someone, that same act can be meaningful.

Not ultimate… but still meaningful.

And I didn’t feel the need to dismiss it anymore.

In hindsight, that earlier certainty wasn’t really about rituals.

It was about an identity that needed to be right.

So now when I look at ego, it feels different.

Ahamkāra is not something to get rid of.

It is something to understand.

The question is not whether the “I” is present.

It always is. It needs to be.

The question is whether I am using it… or whether I have become it.

Whether there is space around the identity, or whether the identity has become the whole thing.

That shift, from holding a role to being held by it, can happen very quietly.

In a comment that lands the wrong way.

In a certainty that doesn’t want to be questioned.

In a role that starts to feel like it needs protecting.

And just noticing that… creates a little space.

Not always. Not perfectly.

But enough to respond differently, sometimes.

If you pause for a moment, you might see this in your own life too.

Maybe nothing has to change immediately.

Just noticing this…
where the “I” becomes tight,
and where it stays light…
might already be the beginning.

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

A Subtle Shift Within

We often say we just want to be happy.

But what does that really mean?

For some of us, it looks like rest, good food, music, or time with people we enjoy. For others, it looks like growth, discipline, purpose, or doing something that feels meaningful, even when it is not easy.

Why do some things feel immediately enjoyable, while others feel meaningful but effortful?

And why do we sometimes feel pulled between the two?

These questions stayed with me.

A Lens That Brought Clarity

During my mindfulness training, I came across a distinction from Aristotle’s philosophy that helped me understand this inner movement more clearly: hedonia and eudaimonia.

These words may sound technical at first, but the ideas are deeply human.

Hedonia refers to happiness that comes from pleasure, enjoyment, and feeling good.

It is the comfort of rest, good food, music, laughter, and ease.

Eudaimonia, on the other hand, is about living well.

It is the quiet fulfillment that comes from growth, purpose, discipline, and aligning with what truly matters to us.

A simple way to understand it is this: Hedonia is about feeling good. Eudaimonia is about living well.

Not Opposites, But a Spectrum

What stayed with me most was this:

These are not opposing paths.

They are part of the same spectrum, and most of us move between them, often without even realizing it.

There are days when we seek comfort.

And there are days when we seek meaning.

Neither is wrong.

Seeing It in Everyday Life

Once I began to notice this, I could see it everywhere.

After a long day, some people feel restored by music, social gatherings, or simply being around others.

Others might prefer solitude, reading, or quiet reflection.

In my own life, teaching yoga and mindfulness feels deeply aligned with my sense of purpose. It is meaningful, and often effortful, a very eudaimonic pursuit.

And yet, the money I earn from this work often finds its way into experiences that are purely enjoyable, concerts, travel, art, or good food with people I love.

Both feel important. Just in different ways.

Even Within Practice

I also see this within yoga asana practice itself. Some days, I step onto the mat simply because it feels good to move, stretch, and breathe. The body softens, the mind settles. It is easy.

On other days, the practice asks something more.

It asks for discipline, patience, and the willingness to stay present with discomfort. It becomes less about comfort and more about growth.

One feels pleasant. The other can be transformative.

Both are part of the practice.

The Pressure to Choose

Many of us, perhaps without realizing it, carry a quiet pressure to choose between these two.

If we rest too much, we feel unproductive.

If we push too hard, we feel exhausted.

If we choose comfort, we question ourselves.

If we choose effort, we sometimes lose our sense of ease.

But what if this is not a choice we need to make?

A More Honest Question

In mindfulness work, I often hear people say, “I just want to be happy.”

And often, what they really mean is:

“I want relief from stress, discomfort, or emotional fatigue.”

Which is completely natural.

But mindfulness gently expands that question.

Instead of only asking, “How do I feel better?”

We begin to ask, “What does it mean for me to live well?”

Holding Both, Gently

Perhaps the invitation is not to reject one in favor of the other.

But to notice.

Where in our lives are we seeking pleasure?

Where are we seeking meaning?

And can we allow both—without judgment?

Because maybe living well is not about always choosing what is meaningful.

And not about always choosing what feels good.

Maybe it is about recognizing the place each has in our lives—and learning to move between them, with a little more awareness and a little less conflict.

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

The Problem: Chasing Connections That Drain Us

There comes a point in life when we begin to question our relationships, not because something went wrong, but because something feels different. Conversations fade, effort shifts, and we are left wondering: are we growing together, or simply growing apart?

I often wonder how a word so simple can feel so complex at different moments in life.

Lately, I have been reflecting deeply on my relationships. I find myself drawn to connections that are not forced, where I feel seen, valued, and at ease. I have always been ready to give, but I’m learning that giving does not mean becoming a people pleaser.

As I sat quietly with these thoughts, I found myself walking down memory lane, friendships from school, college, and workplaces. Conversations that once felt endless and fulfilling. At times, I even prioritised those conversations over family.

But when I sit in silence today and observe more closely, I notice something has shifted. Everyone seems busy. And sometimes, I realise that it was often me making the effort to keep those conversations going. Months pass without speaking, and I occasionally wonder, am I the only one still holding onto this connection? Or have we both quietly outgrown it, without ever saying it aloud?

Yoga As My Anchor for Clarity

Yoga has played a quiet yet profound role in helping me understand this.

My practice is my anchor, and the mat often becomes a sounding board for my thoughts. When breath and movement fall into rhythm, clarity begins to emerge.

Over time, yoga began teaching me something beyond physical practice. On the mat, I learned that every posture brings a moment of awareness, a choice to hold, soften, or gently release. Relationships, I realised, are not very different.

Some connections feel steady and nourishing, like a posture we can remain in with ease. Others demand constant effort, leaving us drained. Yoga quietly teaches us that just as we learn when to enter a posture and when to come out of it, we must also learn when to stay in a relationship and when it is okay to step back, with awareness and grace.

The Role Of Energy And Boundaries

I have come to realise that relationships are beautiful and important. But sometimes, it is also okay to let them evolve, to create boundaries, or even to let them go.

As someone who once moved from being an introvert into the world of public relations, I learned that conversation is a skill. But somewhere along the way, I also realised that energy is precious, and it needs to be preserved.

Relationships Across Changing Spaces

Living in a different country and culture taught me something more. In some places, friendships take longer to form, but when they do, they carry depth and intention. At the same time, there are many brief connections - acquaintances who drift away quietly.

Finding a genuine friend in a new environment is not always easy, and that too makes me reflect on which relationships are meant to grow deeper, and which are simply passing moments.

Do All Relationships Need To Last?

So, what is the right approach to relationships?

Perhaps there isn’t one.

We meet people through shared energy, comfort, and timing. Some stay for a season, some for years, and some quietly drift away as life moves forward. Relationships evolve just as we do—some deepen, some fade, and some simply teach us something about ourselves before moving on.

Not everyone we meet is meant to become part of our inner circle.

And perhaps that too is something yoga teaches us, to honour every connection, without feeling the need to hold on to all of them.

Not every relationship needs closure. Sometimes, awareness itself is closure.

A Question To Reflect On

What do we truly seek from a relationship?

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

The Normalisation of Thyroid Issues

In today’s world, thyroid conditions have quietly become “lifestyle disorders.” They are so common that the response is often casual: “It’s normal. Just take the pill.”

As women, many of us encounter thyroid imbalances almost incidentally, often during moments like planning a family. Looking back, the signs were always there: dry skin, brittle nails, persistent fatigue, and that familiar “brain fog” we tend to dismiss as part of a busy, modern life.

But after 40, these whispers often grow louder.

If you’re reading this and nodding—you are not alone.

My First Turning Point: Discovering Yoga

After my first delivery, I turned to yoga, initially to address back pain. But gradually, my practice deepened into something more intentional, especially to support my endocrine health.

I began incorporating specific asanas:

• Sarvangasana (Shoulder Stand): Encouraging blood flow toward the thyroid region

• Matsyasana (Fish Pose): Opening and stimulating the throat

• Setu Bandhasana (Bridge Pose): Supporting chest expansion and glandular activation

The result was encouraging. My thyroid levels improved significantly, so much so that my doctor even discussed reducing my dosage.

At that point, yoga felt like a superpower.

The Second Experience: When the Same Didn’t Work

During my second pregnancy, I followed the same approach:

Same asanas.

Same discipline.

Same intention.

But this time, the outcome was very different.

My thyroid levels didn’t improve. In fact, my medication dosage increased.

And the question stayed with me:

What am I missing?

Rethinking the Thyroid: Beyond a Mechanical View

This experience shifted my understanding completely. The thyroid is not a mechanical part that responds predictably to a fixed routine. It is deeply sensitive, a reflection of our internal and external environment.

Between my first and second pregnancy, something fundamental had changed, not in my practice, but in my life.

The Invisible Load

It wasn’t just about what I was doing on the mat, it was about everything off it.

• More responsibilities.

• Interrupted sleep.

• The emotional demands of a growing family.

My nervous system was in a constant state of “doing,” with very little space for recovery.

The Biological Transitions

Life stages matter.

Postpartum recovery and the gradual approach toward perimenopause bring significant hormonal shifts. These transitions influence how the endocrine system communicates and responds.

The same practice, applied in a different biological context, does not yield the same results.

The Missing Piece: The Yoga of Rest

I realised that while I was committed to the physical aspect of yoga, I was neglecting its restorative dimension.

Inversions and active postures are powerful, but when the body is already fatigued, they can become another layer of stress rather than support.

I had overlooked:

• Deep rest

• Nervous system recovery

• The quieter, receptive aspects of practice

What My Practice Looks Like Today

Today, my relationship with yoga has evolved.

It is no longer just about “thyroid-focused poses,” but about balance.

• Hatha Yoga: Honouring both active (sun) and receptive (moon) energies

• Pranayama: Regulating breath and calming the nervous system

• Nutrition: Supporting the body at a foundational level

• Rest: No longer optional, but essential

A Shift in Perspective

I no longer see my increased medication dosage as a failure.

Yoga is not a replacement for medical treatment—but it is a powerful support system. It helps prevent my system from tipping into a deeper imbalance.

The thyroid does not function in isolation.

It listens to stress, to rest, to nourishment, and to the rhythms of daily life.

An Ongoing Journey

I am still learning. Still experimenting.

Yes, I take my medication every morning. But I am no longer outsourcing my health entirely to it.

Instead, I am working with my body, through mindful movement, rest, and nourishment - toward a state of balance.

A Reflection for You

Have you ever felt like you were doing everything right; the yoga, the diet, the medication, and yet your body responded differently?

How did you adapt?

How did you listen?

I would love to hear your experience

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

They say it takes a lifetime, perhaps even more to truly understand and experience yoga philosophy.

If that is so, can one really say they have learnt and understood it all in a 200-hour training programme?

This question has been quietly sitting with me for some time now.

I still remember how excited I was when I enrolled in my yoga teacher training. The three–four-week intensive programme gave me confidence and clarity. It strengthened something I already felt within, that I wanted to help people begin their yoga journey, or support them wherever they were in it.

That excitement is familiar to many of us. When something close to our heart, something we’ve worked towards with consistency, finally gets completed on paper, it feels validating. A certification gives shape to our intent. On paper, I was “ready.” I had the cues, the structure, the language.

But as I stepped away from training and into real classrooms, I realised something:

The certificate gave me permission to start, but practice is what teaches me how to stay.

A Growing Space, A Deeper Responsibility

Today, the yoga space is vast and growing. There are many schools, many styles, and many teachers. While it may feel crowded at times, it also reflects something encouraging, a genuine curiosity and openness towards yoga.

This is not about pointing out faults. Social media does that well already.

Instead, this is an honest reflection on the “gaps”, not as shortcomings of a course, but as lessons that only life, practice, and observation can reveal over time.

Yoga Is Vast. Certification Is Only a Doorway

Yoga cannot be contained within one or two certifications. That much becomes clear with time.

In training, we are introduced to philosophy; often through texts like the Yoga Sutras. But many times, it feels like something to be studied, remembered, perhaps even examined… rather than lived.

It is only later, through practice, that these teachings begin to shift from abstract ideas to lived experiences. Philosophy starts to show up:

• in the way we breathe when things feel difficult

• in how we respond to discomfort on the mat

• in how we hold space for others without judgement

As teachers, what we need is not just knowledge of philosophy, but an understanding of how it quietly expresses itself in everyday practice.

From Learning Postures to Understanding Bodies

Asana training gives us structure, alignment, repetition, familiarity.

But real bodies are not uniform.

They come with stress, injuries, fatigue, hormonal shifts, ageing, and emotional histories. And in these bodies, sequencing begins to matter deeply.

Over time, I’ve realised that the real intelligence of practice lies not in the peak posture, but in the preparation:

• the small, almost invisible movements

• the gradual opening of the body

• the respect for where someone is, rather than where the pose “should” look like

This sensitivity is rarely taught in full; it is felt, observed, and refined through experience.

Making Anatomy Come Alive

Anatomy, too, often begins as theory; names of muscles, joints, and movements.

But its real value emerges when it becomes functional and relatable.

When a teacher understands anatomy in a lived way, something shifts:

• cues become clearer

• assumptions reduce

• respect for individual limitations increases

Teaching becomes less about instruction and more about guidance.

From Knowing to Seeing

Perhaps the biggest shift I’ve experienced is this: moving from knowing to seeing.

Training gives us information.

Practice gives us perception.

You begin to notice:

• how breath changes before the body reacts

• how over-effort often masks restlessness

• how each student experiences the same posture differently

This kind of seeing cannot be rushed. It develops quietly, through attention and repetition.

Learning Beyond the Certificate

Today, whatever I understand comes less from the training itself and more from what followed: teaching regularly, observing different students, experiencing my own body, and returning to the mat—again and again.

The training gave me a foundation.

But life, practice, and reflection continue to shape me as a teacher.

From Instruction to Relationship

In the beginning, teaching feels like getting things “right”: Am I giving the correct cues?

Am I correcting properly?

But slowly, it becomes something else: Am I truly listening?

Am I seeing the person in front of me?

Yoga then shifts—from something we deliver, to something we co-create.

It’s a Long Road

The certificate validated my excitement.

But curiosity is what keeps me returning.

In a world where it is easy to feel the need to be louder, more advanced, or more visible, my teachers, books, and practice keep bringing me back to something simpler: discipline and reflection.

The real building happens quietly, every morning on the mat, even on days I don’t feel like a “teacher.”

It happens when I choose to listen instead of correct.

When I observe instead of assume.

Perhaps the real training begins when the course ends.

When structure falls away, and what remains is your own attention, your own inquiry, your willingness to return, again and again.

The certificate may mark a beginning.

But it is practice, time, and honest reflection that shape the teacher within.

I’m curious, for those of you who have done a training, or even those who have simply been practicing for years:

What did your initial learning give you?

And what has life taught you since then, in its own time?

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”

• Shoonyataa

Oh… that cacophony in the head!

How do I stop this? Where are all these unnecessary thoughts coming from? Why am I constantly worried or overthinking things?

From what I have heard and read, the experiences I have had with my body and mind over the past few days would probably be categorized as stress and anxiety. The constant chatter in the head, with random worries and restless thoughts, made me pause and reflect.

Stress and anxiety are words we hear almost every day. Articles, podcasts, and experts offer many techniques to manage them, and many of these approaches are valuable. My intention here is not to add another list of “best practices,” but to share a simple question that yoga gradually taught me to ask:

Do we notice our thoughts when we are stressed?

Today stress and anxiety are so common that we are almost becoming casual about them. They rarely appear as one dramatic event. More often they build slowly through the day—unread emails, unfinished tasks, tight schedules, and the constant background noise of notifications.

When people describe stress, they usually speak about the mind—racing thoughts, worry, or overthinking. But stress rarely stays only in the mind. It gradually settles into the body.

When stress quietly enters the body

Over the years, I have noticed that constantly being in a state of anxiety or stress has many side effects. After a point, the body begins to struggle to support this constant mental activity.

These restless thoughts begin to affect the physical body.

You may notice it as stiffness in the neck after hours at a computer, shallow breathing while working through a task, restlessness before sleep, or fatigue that does not fully disappear even after rest. Over time these patterns become familiar. The shoulders lift slightly toward the ears, the jaw tightens, and the breath becomes shorter without us realizing it. The body slowly learns these patterns and begins to hold them.

For many years I lived in a loop of guilt, worry, and fear. I still get caught in that loop sometimes. The difference now is that I am able to notice it earlier. That small shift in awareness is something I credit entirely to my yoga practice.

A Moment of Realization

Recently I experienced something that reminded me of this clearly. My mind was flooded with anxious thoughts that kept growing larger than the situation itself. The more I tried to push them away, the stronger they seemed to return. It felt like trying to silence a noise that kept getting louder.

When I shared this with a friend, the first thing she asked was whether I had stopped my yoga practice. The answer was yes.

It had been a few days since I had practiced. My body and mind were missing the rhythm of the asana practice, and I was becoming aware of this through the responses I was experiencing.

At that moment I also realized something else. The ability to notice these thoughts itself had come from yoga.

But what do I do with that awareness? Can I outsource it to the friend with whom I was sharing? The reality is that I cannot.

The responsibility to observe and understand what is happening within must eventually come back to me.

It was also interesting to notice another thought arising during this time. I realized that I had become somewhat attached to my practice. Ironically, Karma Yoga teaches us not to be attached to our actions or their outcomes. Yet here I was, wondering whether the disturbance in my mind was simply because I had not practiced for a few days.

That realization itself became another point of reflection.

When Yoga Continues Off the Mat

At that moment I remembered something simple from practice, to notice rather than resist.

Yoga often begins here. Not with an immediate solution, but with awareness of what is already happening.

For a long time I believed yoga meant setting aside a full hour, rolling out the mat, and practicing in a quiet room. Dedicated practice certainly has value. But over time I realized that yoga can also exist in much smaller moments during the day.

A gentle stretch of the spine after sitting for long periods, a conscious breath taken between tasks, or simply pausing to sit upright can reveal how much tension the body has been holding.

These small actions may look insignificant, but they gradually influence the nervous system. The body shifts from a state of constant alertness toward a more balanced rhythm. As the breath slows, the mind often follows.

When we make a mistake and acknowledge it honestly, something interesting happens. The mistake stops echoing in the mind as a nagging voice. It settles.

A similar process begins when we start observing our thoughts during moments of stress. The simple act of noticing becomes a kind of internal check-in.

Finding Balance On and Off the Mat

For me, yoga has slowly become less about performing postures and more about listening to the signals of the body and mind.

This does not mean that life suddenly becomes calm. Deadlines remain, responsibilities continue, and uncertainty still exists. The outer world rarely slows down simply because we decide to practice yoga.

What changes instead is our relationship with these situations. When there is even a small sense of internal steadiness, our reactions soften into more thoughtful responses.

Stress and anxiety may never disappear completely from modern life. They are part of living in a fast-moving world filled with expectations and responsibilities. The aim is not to eliminate them entirely, but to recognize them earlier and meet them with greater awareness.

In a world that moves at such speed, I realize that I must consciously train myself. I cannot control every thought that arises, but with discipline in practice I can learn to notice them—and sometimes let them go.

The constant loops of thoughts, the tightening of the jaw, the questioning of everything—these patterns often leave the mind feeling restless and exhausted.

If you sit quietly and observe your thoughts, you may notice similar loops appearing. These repeating thoughts can slowly grow into anxiety. As we become more familiar with these patterns, we also encounter terms like procrastination or imposter syndrome. These experiences are real, and many experts speak about them in depth.

What I want to draw attention to are the quieter signals that appear much earlier.

The Power of a Pause

I remember my parents telling me to take a break when I studied for long hours before examinations. Resetting the mind by pausing has been recommended for generations.

For me, that pause has gradually become a way to reconnect with myself.

Sometimes the most helpful step is simply to pause. A moment to breathe. A moment to sit upright. A moment to notice what the mind and body are holding. And often, that quiet pause is where yoga begins again.

If this reflection brought up thoughts or experiences of your own, I would love to hear them.

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”
- Shoonyataa

Carl Jung once said: “Loneliness does not come from having no people around you,

but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to you.”

When I first read this quote, something inside me went quiet.

It reminded me of my own long-standing struggle with communicating and expressing my true emotions and questions.

Growing up, I somehow absorbed the idea that “big emotions” (sadness, confusion, crying, feeling lost, feeling anxious, saying no, feeling low) were things to keep to yourself and snap out of.

That they didn’t really deserve space.

That they made a person look weak, imperfect, or difficult for society to deal with.

So slowly, without consciously deciding it, I learnt to manage quietly.

To ignore certain feelings.

To downplay them.

To show only those parts of myself that made others comfortable.

And I want to say this clearly: I am not questioning my upbringing.

My parents did the best they could with the emotional tools they had. My father encouraged independence, education, travel, and financial stability. Materially and practically, we were supported.

But emotional literacy was not very high in that generation. Conversations about processing feelings, nervous system regulation, or emotional safety were simply not mainstream.

And raising a highly sensitive child, whose nervous system feels things more intensely, is not easy for any parent.

I later recognised myself as a Highly Sensitive Person after reading Elaine Aron’s work (https://hsperson.com/). That understanding itself was healing. This deserves a separate post in itself.

How This Showed Up in My Life

In my adult life, this pattern showed up in many ways.

Holding back what I really felt.

Feeling scared to place my needs before others.

Worrying that I might upset someone or inconvenience them.

Over time, this created a certain image of me: that I was “sorted”, low-maintenance, very understanding, someone with very few needs.

Again, I say this without blame.

My journey through school, college, friendships, and workplaces slowly expanded my understanding of emotions and relationships. Different people, different environments, and different life experiences helped me see things more clearly.

But the old pattern was still there.

Quietly running in the background.

And every pattern has a cost.

For me, this one showed up as imposter syndrome and harsh self-judgement.

Because I didn’t know how to process overwhelming feelings, my high sensitivity turned inward.

It became:

• Self-criticism

• Perfectionism

• Doubting myself

• Emotional unsafety

• Constant “Am I good enough?” loops

Not because I was weak.

Because I lacked tools.

When emotions don’t find safe expression, they don’t disappear.

They turn into inner pressure.

The Turning Point

I had some awareness of my anxiety and patterns even in my teens and early 20s. A personal loss amplified these tendencies.

But alongside that sensitivity, I also had an observing part. An awareness that noticed what was happening inside me.

There was always some space between the experience and my response.

Today, I recognise this as awareness.

This awareness pushed me to act.

I reached for books.

For spirituality.

For yoga.

For therapy.

For regulation tools.

I even told my parents, quite openly, that I needed professional help for my mental health.

Looking back, I’m still amazed at that younger version of me.

It taught me something important:

Mental and emotional health is not luck.

It is a skill.

And it can be cultivated.

Earlier, when I felt hurt, sad, or overwhelmed, I often didn’t allow myself to feel it fully.

I would manage quietly.

Tell myself it wasn’t a big deal.

And present to others that everything was okay.. even when it wasn’t.

I also tended to take on a lot of responsibility, sometimes overburdening myself even when I needed time, space, or rest.

Over time, in small and often unremarkable ways, something began to shift.

I started noticing (not always though), but more than before - what I was doing out of genuine care and what I was doing out of habit, people-pleasing, or an inability to create a boundary.

These days, when I am not feeling okay, I am more able to name it .. first to myself, and sometimes to others.. without as much self-judgement.

It doesn’t happen perfectly.

And it doesn’t happen every time.

But the relationship I have with my inner experience is gentler than it once was.

The change hasn’t shown up as dramatic moments. It has shown up in micro-choices, small pauses and quieter self-honesty :)

What Helped Me Along the Way

Healing has never been a straight line for me.

It is still ongoing.

It is still evolving.

But along the way, these tools supported me deeply:

Internal Tools

• Yoga – Helped regulate my nervous system and grounded me in my body. It taught me to stay with sensations and emotions instead of running from them. (This deserves a post of its own.)

• Journaling – Helped me release emotions safely. Writing created space between me and my feelings and reduced their intensity. You can read more about my journey with journaling here (we can hyper link it)

• Affirmations – Gentle, consistent self-talk slowly rewires old patterns.

Relational Tools

• Therapy – Saying things out loud reduces their power. Finding the right therapist can be transformative.(Another post for another day.)

• Teachers – I have been fortunate to learn from teachers whose words reached my heart directly. This deserves its own reflection.

• Family and friends – Safe relationships matter more than we realise.

Foundational Regulations

• Reading – Books on yoga philosophy, nonviolent communication, high sensitivity, boundaries, Brené Brown, Swami Anantananda, and even Osho shaped my inner world. I’ll share a reading list separately.

• Physical health – Sleep, movement, nutrition, and rest are not optional. They are foundational.

None of these worked magically.

They worked through repetition, patience, and commitment.

If You Are On This Path

If this resonates with you, I want to say this gently:

It starts with self-awareness and self-care.

Not perfection.

Not fixing yourself.

Not becoming “better”.

Just noticing.

Use the tools that feel accessible to you: yoga, journaling, therapy, reading, quiet reflection.

Create micro-moments of awareness in your day.

Because what is suppressed will eventually express itself.

As anxiety.

As restlessness.

As it aches.

As burnout.

As emotional numbness.

Energy needs to flow.

And healing is not linear.

There will be days when you feel like you’ve moved backward.

That doesn’t mean you have failed.

It means you are human.

Why I’m Sharing This

I am sharing this not as an expert, but as someone who deeply recognises our common humanity.

As someone who believes that when we speak honestly about our inner journeys, we give others permission to feel seen in theirs.

This is not advice.

It is simply my lived experience.

And if even one person feels a little less alone after reading this, then Shoonyataa’s purpose on Substack feels fulfilled.

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”
- Shoonyataa

Is your mood coming from your gut? Can yoga truly support healing?

Have you ever noticed that on days when you feel anxious, low in energy, or overwhelmed, your stomach feels different too? Perhaps it feels heavy, bloated, unsettled, or shows up as acidity, constipation, breakouts, or constant cravings.

We often search for the cause outside ourselves, poor food choices, overthinking, long work hours, strained relationships, or endless to-do lists. For years, I did the same. I never paused to consider: What if the knot in my thinking is rooted in my midsection? I never imagined that digestion could shape my mood, my energy, even aspects of my personality.

Modern wellness has turned “gut health” into a marketplace of powders and supplements. Yet long before trends, yogic wisdom recognized the abdomen as a vital center of energy. When the gut is tense, thoughts become rigid. When digestion is sluggish, the mind feels foggy.

We casually speak of a “gut feeling,” but what is the gut actually doing?

Science now refers to it as the second brain. The gut influences mood, immunity, hormones, sleep, stress response, and clarity. When it is imbalanced due to stress, irregular meals, low fiber, or lack of movement, it may show up as bloating, fatigue, brain fog, mood swings, skin issues, or slow metabolism.

The gut reflects lifestyle, emotions, and inner rhythm. And this is where yoga began to make deeper sense to me.

How Yoga Revealed the Connection

Yoga cultivates inner awareness. When I step onto the mat for my daily Hatha practice, my attention naturally turns inward. Some days, forward bends feel effortless, the breath settles into the lower abdomen, and I feel grounded. On other days, twists feel heavy, the breath is shallow, and the mind scattered.

Gradually, I began noticing a pattern: the gut does not function in isolation. It responds to stress, sleep, routine, and emotional patterns. At the same time, the mind responds to the gut. When digestion feels unsettled, the mind becomes restless. When digestion flows smoothly, clarity follows.

This two-way communication mirrors what yoga describes as the harmonising of prana and the calming of the nervous system. For the first time, I understood that my abdominal region reflected my emotional state.

Why Yoga Supports Gut Health

Yoga views the body as an integrated whole. Rather than trying to “fix” digestion through force, yoga invites awareness.

Healing does not happen merely because a twist was performed. It happens when breath returns to the center and the nervous system softens.

Every posture and breathing practice influences:

• The vagus nerve (the communication pathway between brain and gut)

• The parasympathetic nervous system (rest-and-digest mode)

• Hormonal balance

• Emotional regulation

Forward bends gently compress the abdomen. Twists stimulate circulation to digestive organs. Conscious breathing internally massages the organs. Over time, these practices reduce stress, the primary disruptor of digestion.

Many practitioners report improved digestion, reduced bloating, stable energy, calmer moods, and fewer cravings—even without drastic dietary changes.

The Ayurvedic Perspective

Long before modern science described the gut–brain axis, Ayurveda placed digestion at the center of health.

The abdomen is associated with:

Manipura chakra (centre of body - at the navel) - vitality, digestion, willpower

Apana vayu (the downward flow of energy) - grounding and elimination

When digestion is balanced, systems remain balanced. When it is disturbed, imbalance spreads.

The guidance is simple:

• Eat warm food.

• Eat when hungry.

• Chew well.

• Avoid overeating.

• Respect routine.

• Do not eat in a state of stress.

These principles are uncomplicated—yet powerful.

Small Daily Habits That Matter

As our elders often reminded us, if you want a healthy gut, you must nourish it well.

Simple habits can include:

• Eating without screens

• Including fruits and vegetables

• Drinking water between meals rather than during

• Adding fermented foods like curd or kefir

• Taking a short walk after meals

Small shifts create significant impact over time.

Where the Real Magic Lies

I am not writing this because I have “fixed” my gut. I am still observing, adjusting, and learning. Some days feel balanced; others do not. But what has grown steadily is awareness.

What I understand more clearly now is this: the gut listens to our thoughts, reacts to our emotions, and mirrors our internal state.

Perhaps the deeper inquiry is not simply about what we eat, but how we live, breathe, and respond.

The next time you reach for something; food, a reaction, or even a thought - pause gently and ask:

What is my body trying to tell me?

Many drops make a mighty ocean’, is a simple truth that perfectly reflects our collective journey as yoga practitioners and teachers.

“Shoonyataa” is our shared space that is powerful, unique, energetic, authentic, philosophical and spiritual. It’s where our individual paths meet, creating something greater through connection, inquiry, and practice.

We are three practitioners brought together by a shared space and a shared curiosity, to explore yoga beyond the asana, beyond the mat. What began as individual journeys has evolved into a collective one, where we continue to learn, reflect, and grow on the mat and, more importantly, off it. Through our practice, we’ve come to understand that yoga is not a destination but a lifelong path. It invites us to look inward, to align not just the body but also the mind and spirit. And the more we explore, the more we realize how much there is yet to discover. We see yoga, primarily with the practice of asanas, as the first step toward attempting to reconnect with the self, peeling back layers, and at a later stage stepping into stillness, using the breath.

“Shoonyataa”; meaning emptiness or the space of nothingness, is our attempt to document and share this ongoing journey.

As we offer our reflections, insights, and learnings not as experts, but as fellow travelers, we hope our experiences resonate with you, support your practice, and perhaps inspire a deeper inquiry into your own path. We’re here to guide the new or young teachers/practitioners/seekers as we walk beside you; offering support, encouragement, perspective as you find your own path towards ‘Shoonyataa’.

All our stories are genuine, and a reflection of our evolved journeys. If it resonates with you, these are the key takeaways:

Body

• Teaching tools – reflections on cueing, sequencing, language, and the art of simplification.

• One step at a time – growing everyday with the subtle aspects of asanas, pranayama, mudras, bandhas, and more.

• A safer way to teach – compassion, awareness, and being in the moment.

• Nuances – deeper transformation with subtle details.

Mind

• Echoing your thoughts – finding clarity through shared voices.

• A compassionate approach – starting to be kind to yourself as you deal with struggles.

• A new perspective – simplifying yogic concepts from texts in an approachable way.

• Contemplation – everyday homework with self-inquiry.

• Knowledge – backed by wisdom, practice, and reference.

• Systems of wisdom – vrittis, chakras, gunas, koshas, doshas, and more.

Spirit

• A deeper experience – insights about yoga beyond the asanas, evolving and being.

• Truthful – in both roles, as student and teacher.

• Connection – enjoying the process, not perfection.

• Surrender – listening and knowing when to let go.

• Living Yoga – on and off the mat.

• Lifelong learning – continuous as student, teacher, and seeker.

• Energy (Prana) – the many ways it guides and teaches you.

• Guide – leading with unconditional love, deep respect, and care for your students.

We’re honoured to share this space with you and invite you to pass it along to fellow yoga teachers and practitioners who may resonate with this path.

How much do our families, friends, other women, society, governments, and healthcare systems truly understand about the lives of girls and women?

While women’s health and the various phases of their lives are widely discussed today, one may still pause and ask: how much is genuinely understood, and how much meaningful support is actually provided for their health and well-being?

Knowledge and Contemplation

I recently came across a powerful passage in the Charaka Samhita that deeply moved me:

“It is the woman who procreates children and propagates the human species. Dharma (righteousness), Artha (wealth), Lakshmi (auspiciousness), and Loka (the entire universe) are represented in every woman. Ayurveda regards the woman and her ability to produce and care for children as the basis of family life which, in turn, is the very foundation of society. Therefore, only if the women of a society are safe, protected, and content can these qualities manifest in that society.”

What struck me most was not merely the reverence for womanhood, but the responsibility it quietly places upon society.

In yogic and Ayurvedic thought, nothing exists in isolation. The health of an individual influences the family; the health of the family shapes the community; and the health of the community ultimately defines the nation.

When Ayurveda places the well-being of women at the foundation of society, it is not speaking sentimentally, it is speaking structurally.

If Dharma is to thrive, if prosperity is to flow, and if harmony is to be felt within society, then the emotional, physical, and psychological safety of women becomes non-negotiable.

This reflection also invites a deeper inquiry. Beyond biological motherhood, every woman carries the capacity to nurture, sustain, and generate life, whether through ideas, relationships, service, or wisdom.

Creation is not limited to childbirth; it is an energetic principle.

Perhaps the more relevant question for our times is not only how women contribute to society, but also how society contributes to the well-being of its women.

Because when women are safe, respected, and content, it is not only families that flourish, the very fabric of society strengthens.

Different Perspectives Across Traditions

Different knowledge systems have viewed women through different lenses.

In Ayurveda, women are understood through the lens of rhythm, cycles, and creative power. The female body is seen as deeply connected with the natural cycles of life.

In the Vedic and yogic worldview, women are often associated with Shakti, the creative force of the universe.

In yogic philosophy:

Shiva represents pure consciousness

Shakti represents creative energy

Without Shakti, nothing manifests.

Thus, the feminine principle is not secondary, it is essential for creation and transformation.

Modern science, on the other hand, studies women primarily through the disciplines of biology, endocrinology, psychology, and sociology.

Hormones, reproductive health, brain function, and social influences are examined to better understand the many stages of a woman’s life.

Though the language may differ, these perspectives together highlight the profound complexity and significance of women’s lives.

Traditional Yogic Understanding

In many classical yoga lineages, menstruation was regarded as a natural downward cleansing process of the body.

In yogic physiology, this downward flow is associated with Apana Vayu, the energy responsible for elimination and release.

During menstruation, the body is already engaged in this process. For this reason, traditional teachers often advise reducing intense physical effort during these days.

The intention was not restriction, but respect for the body’s natural rhythm. Yoga, in its essence, is meant to support the body’s natural movements, not work against them.

Living in Harmony With the Body

Women’s lives unfold in cycles. From the first menstrual cycle in adolescence to the quiet transition of menopause, the female body moves through profound biological and emotional shifts. Yet modern life often asks women to function as though nothing within them is changing.

Ancient traditions such as Ayurveda and the philosophy of Yoga recognised these rhythms long ago.

They understood that a woman’s life does not follow a straight line of constant productivity, but rather unfolds through natural transitions.

When yoga practice begins to acknowledge these rhythms, it becomes something deeper than physical exercise. It becomes a way of moving in harmony with the body’s changing nature.

Acceptance and Reflection

Perhaps yoga gently reminds us that our bodies are not meant to remain the same throughout life. They change, they adapt, they soften, they mature.

When we honour these transitions rather than resist them, practice stops being a pursuit of perfection and becomes a quiet conversation with the body.

And in that conversation, women may rediscover something deeply reassuring: that every stage of life carries its own wisdom.

Conclusion: A Thought for the Future

In today’s world, much is spoken about women’s health and empowerment. Yet perhaps one meaningful step forward would be early education.

Education about the female body, its cycles, and its changes could begin as early as the age of ten, not only for girls, but for boys as well. Boys grow into brothers, partners, colleagues, and leaders; their understanding and sensitivity also shape the environment in which women live.

When awareness begins early, respect and empathy can grow naturally.

And perhaps then, society can begin to move closer to what the ancient wisdom traditions quietly reminded us long ago: that caring for women is not merely a social responsibility, it is a foundation for a healthier and more harmonious world.

On this International Women’s Day, I wish all women good health, inner strength, and the freedom to honour the rhythms of their own lives.

Happy Women’s Day, from Shoonyataa - a women’s yoga collective!

“Walking the path of yoga together - one breath, one reflection at a time.”
- Shoonyataa

We go through our day-to-day lives performing countless actions, moving quickly from one task to another, often without awareness. All our actions are performed through a combination of body and mind.

But how often are we truly observant of these actions, and their outcomes?

Perhaps very rarely.

Our thoughts and desires are often not in sync. Our intellect and the outcomes of our actions are rarely aligned. This disconnect creates an imbalance in the mind, distancing us from a state of harmony.

Why do I share this?

Because I am a living example of all of the above. For years, despite my efforts on the mat, I neglected, or perhaps was not even aware of many instances where the outcome of my actions could have been better. I was moving through life in autopilot mode.

• I portrayed a version of myself to the world that required immense effort to maintain.

• I said things that society wanted to hear.

• I behaved impulsively with my family members.

Externally active. Internally unaware.

The Turning Point

My introduction to yoga texts and the internet opened a doorway into understanding the law of action and reaction. The concept of Karma Yoga made intellectual sense, but translating it into lived experience required effort.

Curiosity became my teacher.

I began cautiously, not in daily life, but on my Hatha Yoga mat.

From there, something began to evolve (and continues to evolve). I started noticing not only the alignment of my body, but the alignment of my thoughts. Slowly, awareness spilled off the mat and into daily life.

There were many “ah!” and “oh!” moments — each one humbling, each one revealing.

Defining Karma Yoga

Karma Yoga is often misunderstood as simply “doing one’s duty.” But it is deeper than that.

Karma Yoga means performing action with meditative awareness, moment to moment. Not only must the action be conscious, but the attitude behind the action must also be observed.

The Bhagavad Gita speaks of the balance between action (karma) and inaction (akarma). To act fully, yet remain inwardly undisturbed, this is yoga. When action does not create inner agitation, one touches the state of inaction within action.

Karma Yoga in Hatha Yoga

It is said that Karma Yoga becomes powerful when supported by other paths; Jnana Yoga, Bhakti Yoga, or Hatha Yoga.

Perhaps my samskaras led me toward Hatha Yoga first. Maybe, in time, Jnana and Bhakti will unfold more deeply.

On the mat, Karma Yoga becomes very tangible.

What Actually Happens

When we move between asanas, our initial awareness is physical:

• Where is the stretch?

• How flexible am I?

• How strong am I?

• Why can’t I go deeper?

These questions are natural. They belong to the early stages of practice.

What Is Expected?

For sadhana to truly evolve us, a subtler question must arise:

• What is my attitude while I am in this asana?

• What happens to my mind when I transition between postures?

• Is there a comparison? Pride? Frustration? Competition?

That awareness of attitude is Karma Yoga.

For example: feeling proud after performing a difficult asana effortlessly. The posture may be stable, but what about the ego that arises from it?

A yogi learns to differentiate between bondage and detachment, between action and identification with the doer. The body performs; the ego claims.

That observation is the beginning of freedom.

Karma Yoga Off the Mat

Recently, I received a speeding ticket.

One part of me was upset and angry at the outcome.

Another part of me said, “This calls for deeper awareness while driving.”

So how does one practice Karma Yoga here?

The Bhagavad Gita teaches: perform your duty with full awareness, without attachment to the result. Offer the action to something higher.

Karma Yoga sides with awareness.

I noticed both inner responses — anger and responsibility. My action (speeding) resulted in a reaction (the fine). Instead of just reacting emotionally, I fulfilled my duty, paid the fine, and reflected on my behaviour.

The shift from blame to responsibility, that is Karma Yoga in motion.

Not perfection. Not suppression.

But awareness, acceptance, and corrective action.

Karma Yoga as My Teacher

Karma Yoga did not stop at my personal practice. It entered my teaching life.

When I first began teaching therapy yoga, I was deeply attached to outcomes.

• Is my student improving?

• Why is this not working?

• Are they following instructions properly?

• What if something goes wrong?

• Am I responsible for everything?

Outwardly calm. Inwardly anxious.

I thought responsibility meant carrying the weight of every result. But slowly, Karma Yoga taught me otherwise.

My duty is to guide sincerely, to offer what I know with clarity and compassion. The outcome, however, is shaped by many factors, the student’s body, their samskaras, their lifestyle, their readiness.

Today, I still ask my students how they are doing, but the anxiety has softened. The questioning now comes from genuine care, not fear.

• I guide with involvement, but with inner detachment.

• I offer my effort.

• I offer my intention.

• And I surrender the rest.

Karma Yoga gently shifted me; from control to trust, from anxiety to responsibility, from ego to offering. And in doing so, it became my teacher.

A Living Practice

Karma Yoga is not a philosophy I practice occasionally. It is a mirror that shows me my tendencies, my pride, my impatience, my expectations. Every action reveals something.

Sometimes it reveals attachment.

Sometimes awareness.

Sometimes growth.

The journey continues.

And perhaps that is the real practice, not trying to become a “perfect yogi,” but becoming more honest with each action.

I leave you with two questions:

Are you attached to the outcomes of your actions?

Or are you willing to offer your action fully — and let go of the rest?

Share your thoughts with us, as we’d love to learn and grow with you :).

The Unknown Feeling

Most of us move through life slightly disconnected, reacting rather than truly reading a situation or responding with clarity.

As children, when we were angry, we were often told to count from 1 to 10 slowly. Perhaps unknowingly, this was our first lesson in breath awareness. Counting slowed the breath. The breath steadied the mind. No one explained why it worked. And as we grew older, we abandoned the practice.

Today, I often wonder if we had continued, would our state of mind and others’ have been more in sync? Would conflicts have softened before turning into wounds?

The two most important men in my life - my late father and my partner, emphasised the importance of guarding our words when speaking out of anger or disappointment. In moments of emotional surge, we are deeply disconnected from ourselves. In that disconnection, we hurt others, and inevitably, ourselves.

Looking back, I feel tenderness towards the many moments I reacted without awareness. I wish I had understood the simple wisdom of returning to my breath, or even pausing for those ten counts.

What is done cannot be undone. But what is understood can be transformed.

From the Unknown to the Known

Humans discover ways to address these conflicts, reducing harm to ourselves and others. For me, yoga has always been key, and it has always been more than postures. It has been:

• The breath - a sacred relationship between guru and disciple

• The mat - a temple space to reflect, unravel, and return

My journey on the mat was long and, at times, unforgiving.

Why unforgiving?

Because as my practice evolved, I began to see the direct correlation between who I was on the mat and who I was off it. My asana practice began questioning my behavior in daily life. But instead of awareness bringing softness, it initially brought harsh self-criticism.

My reflections were not compassionate - they were judgmental. That judgement began doing more harm than good.

I had to find balance between:

• my asana practice

• my state of mind during practice

• my lived experiences off the mat

That awareness became a turning point. Instead of pushing for better alignment or stronger postures, I shifted toward deeper breathing. My practice slowly became one of meditative awareness. In many ways, I had unknowingly begun touching the essence of Karma Yoga - not merely as action, but as conscious action.

The True Essence of Breath

We can hide our emotions and present a composed exterior. But internally, unresolved conflict disturbs both body and mind. Repeated disturbances settle deep within us, often surfacing later as imbalance.

Yoga, through asana, pranayama, mudra, and bandhas become an instrument to reduce these internal conflicts.

You can hide your feelings, but you cannot hide the rhythm of your breath. Your breath does not define your personality, but it reveals your state of mind.

In my own practice, there are moments when I feel fully in sync with my breath in certain asanas, and completely out of rhythm in others.

The breath may become:

• Fast - inhalation dominant, with little awareness of exhalation

• Disturbed - exhalation short and incomplete.

• Uneven - inhalation and exhalations equal, when ideally the exhalation should be longer.

These moments became inquiry points.

Was it the asana?

Was it a distraction?

Or was the posture stirring something deeper in the mind?

More often than not, it was the subtle impact of the asana on my mental state.

Certain postures may not be physically demanding, yet they disturb the mind, pulling it away from the breath.

So I began breaking down each asana into stages. Enter slowly, establish the breath. Stabilise the mind, only then move deeper.

The moment my mind felt disturbed, I checked my breath, and invariably, its rhythm had shifted. Instead of exiting the posture, I stayed - I softened - I surrendered. I remained there until my breath and mind found harmony again.

In many ways, this felt like finally learning to count 1-10, but with awareness. I applied the same principle in pranayama and bandha practice. Even certain mudras influenced the state of my mind. The work was subtle and required deep self-observation, but it was profoundly rewarding.

The Essence Off The Mat

With these observations on the mat, I began exploring the “I-ness” off the mat. Each day throws us into multiple situations. We may begin the day tired and end it energised - or the reverse. No matter how the day unfolds, I make a conscious effort to check my breath before speaking.

I have not perfected this, I still forget. I still react, but I return - again and again.

I have also begun noticing the rhythm of others’ breath. Often, before words are spoken, their breath reveals their state. It prepares me to respond, rather than react.

For me, yoga has been the instrument of evolution. For you, it may be something else entirely. But regardless of the path, stay with your breath. It is the one companion that remains with you from your first cry to your final exhale.

And in its rhythm lies the bridge between conflict and clarity.

Closing Note

In my next reflection, I will share my understanding of Karma Yoga, not as philosophy, but as lived experience.

We all know that each one’s spiritual journey is very personal and relative.

As a seeker in my spiritual path, the easiest way was with the practice of yoga asanas.

For many years my yoga practice was focused more on alignment, breath work, perfect looking postures, and overall a feel good factor. I aimed at creating my own art on the mat, and nailed it well. The pride in me showed the way I moved on the mat, even while teaching.

But the joy I experienced during the practice or while teaching was least reflecting off the mat, and nothing about the ‘I’ changed.

Why and when did yoga resonate with me?

Perhaps my elements, koshas and chakras were already aligned in a way that allowed me to feel at ease when I was introduced to the yogic systems. Everything felt familiar, and not pushed or forced.

Initially, my yoga was only limited to asanas, connections with my physical body was restricted only to the mat. As my performance improved, it took four years (or more) to truly notice my body beyond practice.

What do I mean by this?

I started making mental notes of how I perceived my body in every asana, in every move, in every breath (just to share - this journey still continues).

I carried these mental notes off the mat. I started breaking them down and noticed my physical body in all my actions, off the mat.

For example: let us say a particular pose or even an entire practice brought in me a sense of judgement and pride (trust me, if you pay close attention, you can truly sense these). I would quickly relate to these exact same sensations from my acts during the day, or during a particular situation, when off the mat.

A lived example: during serious conversations with my kids, I noticed my physical body showcasing the same sense of judgement and pride.

The body posture would be exactly how I was when I entered the pose in my practice. I became aware of this, and paid very close attention to these physical responses from all my daily acts, and made mental notes of them.

In my very next practice, I consciously began to work on each asana mindfully. It was here that I started the practice of adding a sankalpa. I moved my practice with more gratitude, calmness, humbleness, and practiced the act of surrendering.

Why is this important?

Yoga isn’t just ‘right action’ on the mat - it’s a way of life.

Every shift in and messages from the physical body during the practice must end positive and encouraging. When I ended my practice with this attitude, I made efforts to carry on the entire day feeling the same. Subsequently, any kind of negative energy displayed by the physical body during the day, was brought to the mat, in my next practice. Through my practice, I would break them down, and access them:

• Accept them with no judgement.

• Reason them out, asking why? To uncover the roots.

• Address causes at their sources.

With our complex personalities this exercise is a never-ending cycle. Yet, we must persist without losing hope, evolving on the mat and gradually evolving off the mat.

Breath unlocks even deeper self-understanding. I’ll explore this in the next article.

My Father, My Guru

In my pre-teens and teens, I felt deeply connected to the Universe. I cherished sunrises and moon-sets, while philosophical questions arose within me.

I shared my clearest questions with my father. He would always respond in the simplest language, making profound ideas easy to understand. Until my marriage, and even years after, he served as my “Guru.” Not every question was answered, but the persistent ones always were shared with him.

Some included:

Why do people hurt others?

How do we define sin?

Why pray?

I rarely read back then (and today, I stick mostly to yoga literature). This early curiosity still mystifies me.

Turning Point - Discovering Yoga

As age advanced, my father’s health declined. Alzheimer’s dimmed his reading, understanding, memory, and speech. Around then, my father-in-law gifted me a yoga book, drawing me to yogic philosophy. I sensed it would answer my questions about myself and the world. That is when yoga truly entered my life in 2008.

For years, most of my questions remained unanswered, but I held faith. I continued my practice, observed my behavior, and others’, and stayed curious.

Teaching from 2013 shifted my perception. The more I taught, the clearer “I” and “We” became. But this clarity faded after days, leaving me lost and curious.

As I shared before, self-practice and reading demanded my own methods. I first treated my mat as my Temple. Then I deepened: I made my Guru.

Breath As My Guru

In every practice and every teaching session, I stayed with my breath. It never failed me.

Teaching diverse students at once, needed a certain understanding of human nature. Each arrives with their own perceptions on yoga, guidance, teacher, and Gurus - and you can’t meet every expectation. But I realized there is one thing common to all of us - our breath.

So I began to emphasize awareness of the breath. The more they connected to their breath, and the more I observed their breathing, the better I understood them. Not perfectly, but enough to help them receive the benefits of yoga.

When everyone in the room is breathing, the energy turns brilliant, quiet, and powerful. This shared discipline and stillness always guides towards truth.

Breath revealed the ‘right’ path, dissolving my ambiguities naturally.

How Breath Resolves Inner Conflict

There were also situations with certain students where I experienced inner friction. Even when my intention was to help, another part of me resisted engaging with them. There was a conflict, a dual movement within. During such times, I returned to my breath.

In my personal practice, I would contemplate while staying in an asana for 24–48 breaths. If my breath was calm and relaxed, clarity would arrive by the end of the practice. If my breath became shallow, broken, or restless, I would leave that asana and move into others until the breath became steady again. I waited patiently for answers, and often the message was simple:

Practice Karma Yoga. The rest will fall into place.

These moments repeat. After 17 years of self-practice and 12 years of teaching, I still turn to breath - my Guru. It never fails.

Once my inner breath whispered:
Seek no answers outside

Follow me sincerely, and I will guide you.

Previous article: Where I Return to Myself: My Yoga Mat as My Sacred Temple

Next article: Mastering Your Body’s Wisdom On and Off the Yoga Mat

“My yoga mat is not just a mat - it is my temple.

But it took me a few years to recognise it as that.”

First Encounter

In 2008, I first set foot on the yoga mat under my guru’s guidance. I quite immediately connected to the mat and the vibrations I experienced throughout the practice.

Back then I couldn’t articulate, or understand the vibrations I felt - only something within me had awakened. But I knew for sure I wasn’t going to stop my practice and promised to show up on my mat, regularly.

Today, in 2026, I continue this journey, blessed to share yoga with others who trust the practice and me. Over these years, my mat evolved. No longer just a prop or rectangular object, it became pure, divine, and powerful.

I now call it my ‘Temple’!

The Rituals I Created

Why a ‘temple’, and what is the backstory?

I consider myself to be very blessed and lucky as most of my yoga knowledge came from my readings, research, and disciplined self-practice. I trained under one guru/yoga teacher for two years (My humble pranams to her :)), which built my strong foundation. Beyond that, self-practice demanded caution.

I became my own guru, guiding myself from entering the room, to stepping on the mat, to rolling it up. I stayed focused, grounded, humble, and clear-sighted.

To ensure that I had consistency in my approach, I decided to create a few rituals:

• I offer pranams before stepping on the mat.

• Each time, I surrender fully, seeking guidance to deepen my practice and stay humble.

• At the end, I offer pranam to Mother Earth and my mat, grateful for lessons learned.

I maintain these in personal sessions and classes alike.

Why Temple?
What does ‘temple’ evoke in you?
A place where you’re in conversation with your Divine?

A space for guidance and blessings?

Well this is how I feel when I’m on my mat! I feel so connected to it, so attuned to all the messages from my body, the many thoughts that come and go, and the sound of my breath. It’s a divine experience for me, each time I’m on my mat. So, why not call it ‘my temple’?

It’s my personal space where I’m in an honest conversation with myself. At times I’m in deep contemplation, setting a sankalpa in my mind, or simply just being an observer.

I’m my own critic, and also my best friend. The inner world in me is in absolute sync with the layers of this physical body and mind that is visible to all. I can never lie to myself.

How My Mat Mirrors That Sanctity

We often step onto the mat carrying mixed emotions from the day, don’t we? At times I would arrive irritated, spaced out, preoccupied, or simply unsettled. But the moment I set foot on the mat and begin to move and breathe, everything I came with fades away. Body, breath and mind synchronize naturally. A sense of inner silence arises — one that I have experienced again and again.

And I thought, this must be how one feels when entering their most cherished place of worship.

They say a temple purifies you; it is where you surrender; it is the place where truth is seen. I experienced all of this on my mat.

So I choose to continue these practices and discover something new about myself each time I step onto “my mat,” treating it as my temple.

It is my way of staying spiritually connected and evolving in my own space, through my physical body, my intellect, and the continuous flow of prana, which I call my Guru.

My next post: My Breath Becomes Your Guru: My Journey from Childhood Questions to Yogic Clarity.

As a yoga teacher, have you ever noticed that while asking students to follow the rhythm of their breath, you yourself have lost track of it? This has happened to me many times.

Recently, during a phase of back pain, I had to step away from my regular practice. After a few weeks of rest due to my back pain and working only with therapeutic yoga under my teacher’s guidance, I finally returned to teaching this week. I remain deeply grateful to my teacher for guiding me back to stability and awareness.

Yesterday, while teaching a beginner Hatha yoga class, a question stayed with me long after the class ended:

• Did I breathe consciously while instructing?

• What was my relationship with the breath in each asana as I spoke and demonstrated?

These questions are not new to me, but yesterday they felt stronger and clearer. Perhaps the forced rest of the past few weeks sharpened my awareness. I do not wish to thank the pain, but I am thankful for what it revealed.

Breath as the center, not an add-on

As teachers, we often speak about awareness and breath, yet sometimes we miss the most basic foundation of practice - awareness in our own body.

Breath is not an extra instruction. It is the center of the practice.

Breath is prana. It sustains us, heals us, and links the body to the mind. Without awareness of breath, asana remains a physical movement. It becomes yoga only when it is performed with awareness of breath, sensation, and mental state. Otherwise, it remains exercise.

In the classical text, asana is described as:

sthira sukham asanam - steady and comfortable posture.

This applies not only to the body, but equally to the breath and mind. When the breath becomes uneven, rushed, or forgotten, the mind has already moved away from the present moment.

Meditative asana begins before the mat

What I have realized is this: Meditative asana does not begin on the mat. It begins in daily life, in the smallest actions:

• watching the breath while walking

• noticing the breath while cooking

• observing the breath while speaking or listening

When breath awareness becomes part of ordinary actions, it no longer needs to be forced during asana. The body already knows how to stay connected. Counting the breath begins to feel unnecessary. Awareness flows naturally.

A simple sankalpa before practice

This awareness is changing how I step onto the mat. Instead of chasing alignment or sequences, I begin with a simple sankalpa:

My primary role is not to perform or instruct, but to stay connected to my breath.

Trust me, it is not easy. This does not happen every day.

Some days the mind wanders. Some days the breath feels shallow. Some days teaching takes over awareness.

But the effort itself matters.

As my teacher reminds me:

“Effort made with awareness is never wasted.”

“Even noticing distraction is awareness.”

The forgotten space: transitions

Another key learning for me has been to slow down transitions.

Often awareness is not lost in the posture, but in moving between postures. When the mind rushes to the next asana, the breath is left behind.

When transitions are slow and deliberate, the breath naturally guides the body. This is where asana begins to prepare the practitioner for meditation.

Asana as preparation for higher practice

Regular practice of asana:

• steadies the body

• balances the nervous system

• trains the mind to stay attentive

When practiced with awareness, asana itself becomes a meditative state.

The posture is no longer something we enter and exit mechanically. It becomes a space where observation unfolds, a meeting place of breath, body, and mind.

The real question I am living with

Meditative asana is not about achieving silence or perfection. It is about relationships, with breath, body, and mind.

As I continue teaching and practicing, I keep returning to this simple question: Am I aware of my breath right now?

When the answer is yes: asana becomes beautiful, instructions become fewer, and presence becomes stronger.

When the answer is no: practice feels effortful, and teaching becomes mechanical.

And perhaps this returning again and again is the real practice.

Do you relate to it?

A few days ago, I met a friend after almost 13 years.
And in the middle of our conversation, she asked me something that I have quietly carried in my mind for a long time:

“Why do we breathe differently in yoga and in strength training? What’s the reason behind it?”

Her current fitness routine involves both practices, and knowing that I am a yoga teacher, she asked out of curiosity. But the truth is... I had the same curiosity too.

I actually got exposed to mouth breathing and bracing almost three years back when I had joined a short functional training programme. But I didn’t think too much about it then. And this year again, in July 2025, when I picked it up more seriously, the curiosity came back very strongly - especially when doing kettlebell work and being asked to exhale through the mouth while moving away from gravity, and combining it with bracing.

And since I am someone who always wants to know the how’s and whys behind things, this question stayed with me. It’s only now that I’ve started to explore it more deeply.

Where This Curiosity Really Began

As a yoga practitioner, nasal breathing felt very natural.

In yoga asana practice, the breath is simple:

• Inhale while expanding or moving away from gravity

• Exhale while folding, grounding, or moving toward gravity

For example:
In Paschimottanasana, we inhale while raising the arms and exhale while bending forward.
In single or double leg raises, we inhale while lifting the leg and exhale while lowering it.

It felt intuitive. I never felt the need to question why we breathed that way.

Cut to my first functional strength class...
I was told very specifically:

• Inhale as you go towards gravity

• Exhale through the mouth + brace when you move away from gravity
  

And again when I picked up strength training this year, the same breathing pattern came back - and this time, the curiosity also came back.

Initially, it left me confused, but I decided to follow the instructions and just focus on the practice. My mind silently accepted:

“This is how we breathe here... and that is how we breathe in yoga.”

Somewhere this compartmentalization stayed. But now that I’m in my fourth month of strength training, the curiosity is back, and I want to understand the science and the tradition behind both.

Understanding Yoga Breath

Since the topic is about why the breathing techniques differ, it helps to understand what yoga is trying to do with breath.

In yoga, breath is more than just oxygen in and out.
It is closely linked to prana, our life force, and it influences how steady or restless the mind feels.

Classical texts like the Hatha Yoga Pradipika mention this very clearly:

• “When the breath is unsteady, the mind is unsteady. When the breath becomes steady, the mind becomes steady.” (HYP 2.2)

• Pranayama is described as a way to balance the internal channels (nadis) and prepare the mind for stillness (HYP 2.1).

So in yoga, the purpose of breath is to:

• support awareness

• regulate the mind

• keep the practice steady, grounded, and inward-focused

And this is why nasal breathing is emphasised:

• it naturally slows the breath

• it keeps the nervous system calm

• it helps us stay connected to the body

• it supports the movement of prana
  

Yoga breath is therefore more subtle.
It’s gentle, quiet, steady, and it creates a certain quality inside - not force, not pressure, but presence.

Understanding Strength Training Breath

Strength training asks the body to do something very different from yoga - it asks you to move weight in a safe and steady way.

So the breath here has one clear role:

To give your body support when it is doing something effortful.

When you inhale before a lift and gently firm up the belly area (what trainers call bracing), the center of your body becomes more stable.

A simple way to understand this is:

It’s like tightening your seatbelt before the car starts moving.

Not because something is wrong - but because a bit of support keeps you steady when there’s movement or force involved.

And when you exhale through the mouth during the effort part - like standing up from a squat, pressing a weight, or pulling something - it helps your body:

• release the right amount of pressure

• stay balanced

• direct effort outward

• avoid unnecessary tension

That’s really the purpose.

There is nothing spiritual or energetic here.
It’s simply a practical way of breathing so your body feels protected and strong when it is lifting or moving weight.

And this is why most trainers teach it - it helps the body stay safe under load.

So Why Can’t We Just Use Yoga Breath in Strength Training?

Because the purpose is different.

Yoga breath regulates.
Strength breath stabilizes.

Yoga breath supports spaciousness.
Strength breath supports force.

Yoga breath moves prana.
Strength breath protects the spine.

Both are intelligent. Both are necessary.
But they solve different problems for the body.

And Why Can’t We Use Strength Breath in Yoga?

Because it would go against the intention of asana.

Yoga is not about generating maximum force.
It is about awareness, alignment, subtlety, and steadying the mind.

Mouth exhalations + bracing would create unnecessary tension, speed, and reactivity - qualities that yoga tries to soften and observe.

A Little Bit About Unlearning

If you are seasoned in one discipline, switching to the other can feel strange.

I felt this myself - breathing in yoga came so naturally that learning gym breathing required conscious unlearning.
But once I experienced it over time, I started to understand why it is taught this way in strength training.
Not intellectually first - but experientially.

And this is where breath actually becomes fascinating:
Every discipline teaches a breathing style that supports the purpose of that discipline.

The Bigger Picture

At the end of the day, breath is intentional.
It adapts depending on what we need in that moment:

• stability

• force

• awareness

• grounding

• regulation

The body is smart - it knows the difference.
And now, I’m learning to know it too.

Your Turn

I would love to know:

Do you use breath intentionally in your yoga asana practice and strength training?

What has your experience been?

Share in the comments - I would genuinely love to hear your reflections.